Dancing on edges
Flirting with fringes
Numb to the fear of falling
Hooked to the thrill of just being
On the edge of the many fringes of reality

Crafting words, not for the sake of crafting
Speaking, not just for the sake of talking
Living, not just for the sake of being
For I am, just until it all ceases
Then a new season begins

Am I cast out from thy presence, Lord, and wither shall I go;
Into the embrace of this deceptively accomodating world?
Shall I dine from the table of pleasure and vanity;
Or drink of this cup set before me, of perceived freedom and vain glory?
Shall I serve myself, my thoughts, desires and instincts;
With all I do not have and more?

Nay, for there’s a purpose for everything under the sun – each twist and turn;
By Your faithfulness, I shall not be forsaken – by Your word, not man’s;
There’s nowhere to go to hide from You – the Psalmist knew well.
May I dine at Your table, set before me wherever You will;
A sober partaker of the overflowing cup of Grace and victory;
In You may my dwelling be, in all Your riches in Glory.